I deleted my social media account with over a million followers. Almost instantly, the internet exploded with speculation, wondering if my account had been hacked. Then Emma Jenny, another influencer in the same niche, messaged me directly. [Why would you just quit out of nowhere? Are you out of your mind?] Even so, I shut everything off and went on a solo trip to see the beauty of the world. In my last life, Emma and I had posted the exact same kind of video content. People accused me of copying her and called me a knockoff clone doomed to fade. I got bombarded with hate publicly and privately, and even in real life. To prove my innocence, I shared screenshots of my scripts, behind-the-scenes content, and timestamps. But they called it fake and said I staged it all. The constant cyberbullying pushed me into a deep depression. So, I ended up alone in my apartment, slitting my wrists. But then, I woke up. To my shock, I was back on the very day Emma and I had first posted those identical videos. —— My finger was literally hovering over the post button. One second later, I would’ve hit it and sealed the fate I already knew. As such, my body jolted like I’d been pulled from deep water. I yanked my hand away just in time, chest heaving as I gasped for breath. Looking around the familiar room, at the camera, the lights, and the draft of the video, I realized I had been reborn at the moment when I first tried to pivot my content. After calming down, I saved the video to my drafts and immediately searched for Emma’s social media. It didn’t take long, and her latest post popped right up. And this one was nothing like her usual style. Her old videos were clunky, poorly edited, and barely scraping a few hundred likes. But this new one had racked up tens of thousands of likes in just thirty minutes. The comment section was also full of praise. [Imagine this look in a survival game setting—unstoppable.] [She’s doing million-follower work on a tiny account.] [God, is this level of beauty even humanly possible?] [Wife, my wife. Who the hell stole my destined wife?!] …and on and on. The dark background, the bold styling, the cinematography, music, and script, every single detail matched the video I had just saved to my drafts. If I didn’t know that I got the idea from watching a British drama and stayed up countless nights writing that script, I might have thought I copied her. But the truth was clear. Somehow, she posted it first. And just like that, she went viral overnight. In my past life, that exact video destroyed me. I remembered feeling excited, thinking the internet would finally recognize my work when I posted it. But when I checked the comments, the joy quickly turned to dread. Everyone said I was a copycat. They even linked the original, which was Emma’s video. When I clicked it, I found the same concept, same angles, and same style. A 99.9% match. But I swear. I never copied a single thing. I was instantly furious then. Desperate to prove I was the true creator, I posted all my drafts and BTS footage. But it didn’t help. Because Emma also posted her process, and somehow, her timestamps were earlier than mine. Then came the backlash. [She planned this ‘evidence’ in advance just to drag Emma down!] [Support originality! Say no to plagiarists!] [Jennifer, get out of the beauty community! You don’t belong here!] [LMAO. You came looking for proof and got slammed by it.] Even Emma’s team and management released official statements saying they didn’t copy anything, that everything was planned in-house. I, on the other hand, was just an independent creator. No team, no manager. Just me, working on every piece from start to finish. So, no one stood up for me. Not even my boyfriend. In fact, he posted a video too, announcing publicly that he was breaking up with me. Said all my content was stitched together from other creators, and that I was a serial plagiarist. And that was the final blow. The internet dragged me harder than ever. My comment sections were flooded with hate. My DMs were bombarded with unreadable and disgusting content. The pressure crushed my creativity, and brands pulled away. As such, I hardly got by. Eventually, I started hurting myself and soon visited a psychiatric clinic, where I was diagnosed with severe depression. And one sunny afternoon, in a cramped little rental apartment, I decided to end it all. But then, I opened my eyes, only to find myself back at the beginning, where none of that had happened yet. But this time, I was going to find out the truth behind all of it.
Jennifer’s POV Clinging to a sliver of hope, I logged into a side account and started digging through Emma’s other social media profiles, hoping to find something that might explain things. But, as expected, she wasn’t the type to share behind-the-scenes details about her work. I was about to give up when something in one of her live photos caught my eye—a familiar figure in the background. I zoomed in and tapped on the image. It captured someone’s left hand, and on that hand was a ring I knew all too well. It was my boyfriend Nelson Holt’s hand. I’d given that ring to him for our one-year anniversary. I had it custom-made, so there’s no way anyone else could have the same one. That was when it hit me. At some point behind my back, Nelson had gotten involved with Emma. No wonder when my world crumbled, he so quickly and cleanly cut ties with me and threw his support behind her instead. I didn’t have time to wallow in heartbreak over a cheating scumbag. I needed to think clearly. Looking back, I used to vent to Nelson all the time about work, about how hard it was, about the creative sparks I’d get in the middle of the night. Was it possible he leaked my ideas? Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me. But he’d been on a “business trip” lately and hadn’t been around. And even if I could get to his phone, he’d never just hand it over. I had no proof he told Emma anything. Still, this felt like a lead, so I wasn’t about to let it go. I pulled out my phone, sent him the photo, calmly explained what I’d seen, and told him we were done. Then I blocked him without hesitation. After that, I changed every lock code and password in my apartment. The last thing I needed was him letting himself in when I wasn’t around. With that chapter closed, I turned my attention back to what mattered—coming up with a new video idea. This time, there would be no mistakes. Just to be safe, I decided to switch up my style again. That last video had been my first time stepping out of my comfort zone, ditching the sweet and delicate “fair-skinned, skinny” aesthetic for something bold, glamorous, and confident. Since that look had been so well received, I figured going even further would only make things better. I spent hours brainstorming, refining, and finally writing out my new script. When I looked at the finished result on my laptop, I couldn’t help but smile. No way anyone was beating me to the punch this time. To avoid leaks, I filmed and edited everything at home. No outdoor shoots. No helping hands. Just me and my gear. When I watched the final cut, I couldn’t help but think—damn, maybe I was born for this self-media life. Still feeling cautious, I even went to Emma’s latest video and left a comment. [Can’t wait for your next one, queen! Please drop it soon!] Not long after, she replied to my comment. [That last video drained all my creative energy, so I probably won’t be posting anything new anytime soon.] I sent her back a crying-cat emoji and finally let out a breath of relief. Looked like she wasn’t planning on posting anything new for a while. So I was right. Last time, she must’ve heard about my concept from Nelson and rushed to beat me to it. Still, was it really possible for two people to come up with the exact same idea? It felt hard to believe, but I had no choice except to chalk it up to coincidence for now. Sometimes people just think alike, right? With that, I uploaded my new video and drafted the caption. I was just about to hit publish when a notification from my alt account popped up. I tapped it open, and immediately went pale.
Jennifer’s POV Emma just updated her page. She reposted my comment where I was begging for her next video, and dropped a brand-new one of her own right after. In the comments, she added, [I originally wanted this to be a surprise for my fans, but someone warned me that this idea might’ve been stolen. So I had no choice but to post it early to clear my name. If I waited and someone else released it first, people would think I copied them, and I’d never be able to explain myself.] My hands were shaking as I tapped the video. Then I looked back at my own video draft sitting open on my laptop. They were so identical from scene to scene, down to the exact minute and second. What the hell was happening?! I held my head in my hands, completely lost. I never told a single soul about the concept for this video. How did she end up with the exact same idea? Did being reborn still mean I couldn’t escape the shadow of my past? Was I doomed to repeat it, to be cyberbullied to death all over again, just like last time? Unsurprisingly, her video blew up. It was already climbing the trending charts. With the back-to-back viral hits, her follower count shot from tens of thousands to nearly a million on a completely different level now. But thanks to her statement, the comment section wasn’t just filled with praise. It was also crawling with suspicion. [Who copied our queen’s idea? I’m all ears.] [I’ve never seen this concept before. If anyone else posts a similar video now, we’ll know who stole it.] [People who plagiarize should just rot!] Everyone wanted to be the first to dig up the tea. Then Emma responded to the top comment. [Sweetie, the other person is a big-name influencer with millions of followers in the same space as me. So, I won’t say who it is, but she recently stopped posting because she was trying to rebrand. I guess she hit a wall and decided to steal a small creator’s idea like me.] She didn’t drop names, but she didn’t have to. That comment gave people more than enough to go on. The internet didn’t need much to put two and two together. It didn’t take long for users to connect the dots and come straight to me. Quickly, my comment sections turned into war zones full of accusations, insults, and endless doubts. But my fans did their best to defend me. Since there was no solid proof that I plagiarized, the hate was quickly buried beneath waves of support. Still, I was exhausted. Mentally drained. Physically done. Between the sleepless nights and nonstop stress, I eventually collapsed into bed and passed out without even meaning to. I didn’t know how long I was out before a loud knock jolted me awake. “Jennifer! I know you’re in there. Open the door!” “You hear me?! Don’t make this harder than it needs to be!” I opened the door and found myself staring straight into Nelson’s eyes. “What’s the meaning of this silent breakup?! I just happened to run into Emma that day. You’re being paranoid!” he barked, dragging a suitcase behind him as he pushed past me. I snapped out of it and shoved him back toward the door. “We broke up. I don’t want to see you again.” “Enough with the drama,” he said. “I came back to give you a way out. Just admit you were wrong, apologize to Emma online, and this whole thing goes away. Don’t make it uglier than it needs to be.” Hearing that, I lost it. “I didn’t copy her!” I screamed. “She stole my idea!” Nelson laughed like I’d told a joke. “Oh, so the person who plagiarized managed to post before the one who didn’t? That’s a new one. Impressive.” “Everyone knows you copied her,” he added. “You’re the only one still lying to yourself.” I pointed to the door, voice shaking with fury. “If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the cops and reporting you for trespassing!” That finally made him back off. He picked up his suitcase, but not before throwing one last comment over his shoulder. “Pathetic. You’ll be crawling back to me before long. Just wait.” I slammed the door behind him so hard the walls shook. But it didn’t take long to figure out what he meant. Not even an hour later, he posted a video of his own, talking about our relationship and heavily implying he was ashamed of me for stealing someone else’s work. Of course, Emma jumped into the comments to say, [Thanks for speaking up, bro.] Then she followed up with a statement on her own page. [I still believe in the power of originality. As long as we stand firm, there’s always hope. I wish everyone would join me in standing against plagiarism.] Jennifer’s POV Thanks to those two, I was instantly pinned to the wall of shame, labeled a plagiarist. I wanted to defend myself, but I had no idea where to start. What was I supposed to say? That the video Emma “created” was originally mine? That somehow, by some bizarre twist of fate, the two videos turned out exactly the same, even down to the second? Who would believe me? No one. Not a single person would buy that story except me. Then, to make matters worse, some sharp-eyed internet sleuths dug up my alternate account and found the comment I left urging her to post. [So that comment wasn’t about excitement. It was fishing for material to steal?] [She really had the audacity to ask for an update. She basically treated Emma’s work like her personal content library.] Reading those comments hit me like a punch to the gut. I had no idea what to do next. Even if I came up with a great idea now, what was the point? Emma would always get there first. She’d post before me every time. That crushing feeling of helplessness wrapped around me tighter than ever. Looking at my channel, the one I had worked so hard to build up, I knew what I had to do if I wanted to avoid falling into the same pit I had in my past life. I deleted my account with over a million followers and posted one final message on social media. [I can’t prove that I didn’t plagiarize. There are things I simply can’t explain. I’ve deactivated my channel, and I’ll be stepping away from this platform for good. All I want to say is this: I, Jennifer Houston, have never copied anyone’s work.] Then I turned off the comments, disabled private messages, uninstalled the app, and forced myself to stop thinking about it. If I couldn’t fight it, then maybe it was better to just walk away. I packed my bags and gave myself permission to take a long break. I needed to breathe, to rest, to reset. I figured if I stopped posting, I’d finally see what Emma would come up with on her own.
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